Movement on the balcony caught her eye and she turned her attention in that direction. Elena Martinez was out there, barefoot. She had removed her tank top and was wearing only her sports bra and yoga pants. But that wasn’t what made Jessie’s jaw drop open in shock.
In one swift, deft move, Martinez swung her legs over the top balcony rail, climbed down the next three, and disappeared from sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“She’s climbing down!”
“What?” Sam said, startled. His focus had been on the bedroom door and he’d completely missed the action on the balcony.
“She went outside and started climbing down the railing!” Jessie repeated over the sound of the hair dryer as she ran over to the sliding balcony door, unlocked it, and yanked it open.
She dashed out and looked over the edge. It had to be at least fifty feet to the sidewalk below. Elena Martinez, who was already clambering down the balcony railing of the unit just below, looked back up. She gave Jessie a strained grin, then returned her attention to the task at hand.
“This is evading arrest!” barked Sam, who had joined Jessie on the balcony.
“Somehow I don’t think she cares that much, Sam,” Jessie said as she grabbed the railing and started to hike herself over.
“No way!” Sam said, grabbing her forearm. “Ryan would kill me if I let anything happen to you. I’m the cop. You’re the profiler. That means I take the side of the building and you take the elevator. No arguments.”
“Fine,” Jessie said, hopping off. “I’ll meet you down there.”
She dashed back through the living room, swung the front door open, and tore down the hall. She didn’t want to risk waiting for the elevator so she darted down the stairs. Even taking them two at a time, she felt like she was taking forever.
By the time she burst into the lobby, she guessed it had been over a minute since Martinez had made her escape. She’d likely be on the ground soon, if not already. Jessie sprinted through the lobby, passed the stunned security guard, through the door, and out onto the street. The building's main entrance facedsouth onto Sunset, but Martinez's unit faced east on Vine, which meant she had to run a half block before rounding the corner to where the woman should be.
When she got there, she immediately looked up. Sam was dangling from the bottom of the second-floor balcony, about to drop down about a half dozen feet to the sidewalk. Martinez was already halfway up the block to the next intersection at Selma Avenue. Jessie gave chase.
Sam dropped to the ground and stumbled just as Jessie met him. She pulled him upright as she watched Martinez cross the intersection and continue north to Hollywood Boulevard.
“We can’t lose her,” she shouted behind her as she kept moving, leaving Sam to regroup on his own. “If she gets away, who knows where she’ll go next.”
She continued up the sidewalk, keeping the woman in her sights. Elena Martinez might be a climber, but Jessie ran five miles on most mornings that she didn’t have to get to the station early. She felt confident that she could keep up. And she was right. By the time Martinez turned right onto Hollywood Boulevard, Jessie had cut the distance between them in half. She was less than fifty yards behind her.
When she rounded the corner, she glanced back to see where Sam was. The detective was pounding his legs mightily but he was well behind. She hoped he’d catch up but couldn’t risk slowing down for fear of losing her target.
Martinez was still in sight and it was now pretty clear to Jessie where she was going. Midway up the block toward Argyle Avenue was the entrance to the Hollywood/Vine metro station. Jessie feared that once Martinez got down into the bowels of the station, she’d easily disappear. That couldn’t happen.
Jessie redoubled her efforts, forcing her legs to push harder, faster. When she got to the entrance to the station, she knew what she’d find. From street level, the escalators and stairs wenta good 60 feet down until they got to the station level below. Martinez had eschewed them and had instead taken an access ramp that acted like a massive slide. Jessie had no interest in that, as there were elevated metal cones along the route intentionally designed to prevent exactly what Martinez was doing.
Instead she hurried down the stairs, moving as quickly as she could while avoiding the morning commuters walking more casually around her. Martinez beat her down to the next level, but only by about ten seconds. Jessie was just reaching the bottom when Martinez curled around the bend in the direction of the train platforms.
Jessie had no idea how far behind her Sam was but didn’t dare risk looking back. The tunnel was crowded and keeping sight of Martinez was challenging. Eventually the woman broke clear of the masses just as she reached the turnstile to access the stairs for the platforms.
“LAPD!” Jessie shouted to the security guard standing off to the side of the turnstiles, “Stop that woman!”
But before the guy even processed what was happening, Martinez had leapt over a turnstile and scurried toward the stairs to the right. Jessie arrived moments later. As she jumped the divider herself, she gave the guard a breathless instruction.
“My partner is right behind me,” she gasped. “Tell him where we went.”
She scampered down the stairs, bouncing off the dense group of commuters in her way. By the time she got to the bottom, she’d lost sight of Martinez. There were just too many people down here.
As she scanned the crowd, an automated female voice spoke over a loudspeaker. “Train entering the station in 1 minute. Please stand clear of the track.”
She needed to find Martinez before that train arrived. There was no way she’d locate her once it entered the station and everyone down here pressed against each other as they passed through the doors. With her chest heaving, she tried to think: where would the woman hide?
Martinez’s black clothes were almost camouflage amid all the people wearing bland work attire. It was nearly impossible to distinguish one person from another. But maybe she shouldn’t be looking at clothes. Maybe she should be looking at something more distinctive.
Jessie knelt down, ignoring faces and outfits, and focused instead on people’s footwear. It was late summer so there was a healthy collection of sandals mixed in among the dress shoes, loafers, heels, and sneakers. But she wasn’t interested in any of those.
